


Write the Story

by Prelate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Character Study, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Het and Slash, M/M, Multiple Pairings, One Shot Collection, POV Multiple, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prelate/pseuds/Prelate
Summary: A friend gifted me this little journal called “Write the Story” that's full of really neat/weird writing prompts.  This is a collection of short Supernatural one shots based on those prompts.  Each chapter will have it's own warnings/notes if necessary, and the pairing (if applicable) will be in the chapter title.





	Write the Story

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural, nor am I making any sort of profit from writing this.
> 
> I'll probably update this randomly, it's just a way for me to pass time on lunch break and work on character studies and writing styles. I figured I would share it, and I hope you all enjoy it. Please take the time to review/comment. Like I said, these little oneshots are mostly a tool I'm using to brush up on character development, so I would really appreciate some feedback.

Rating:T

Pairing(s): Sam/Gabriel

Warnings: Swearing, implied sexual content

Notes: N/A

Include the following in your story: Poker, Paramount, Earlobe, Marrow, Epic, Upgrade, Offshoot, Chihuahua, Episode, Icon

* * *

Sam hated funerals. They were always so awkward, what with people crying on him and going on about old times. Half of them couldn't even be bothered to visit the departed when they were alive. Were the tears even real, or just for dramatic effect? It was only worse when he didn't know a single person there. God only knew what he and Dean were even doing there. He could be back at the motel, trying to research what types of monsters feed on bone marrow from their victims. Instead, they were at some old lady's funeral because Dean insisted that they should keep an eye on one of the women attending the wake. Dean was convinced that she was a witch. Sam, not so much. What kind of witch kept an angry chihuahua in her purse, and cried a river on a random stranger's shoulder?

It took all the self-control Sam had to not kick Dean in the junk – anything to wipe the smirk off of his face. Not only had he put Sam in the honeymoon suite at the motel as some stupid upgrade because they only had one single bed room available, but now he had Paris Hilton's drunk grandma sobbing on his shoulder. Sam _really_ hated funerals.

By the time they escaped, and Dean grudgingly accepted that the old lady (who had been trying to grope Sam's ass throughout the graveside service) was not a witch, they wound up at the local watering hole. Dean was in a corner hustling the poker table, and Sam sat by the bar brooding. The day had been a complete waste. Before long, Sam left the bar and headed back the the motel, that thankfully was within walking distance.

He switched on the lights in his ridiculous honeymoon suite, and threw the coat from his fed suit over the squishy armchair near the window. He flipped open his laptop, that had some cheesy babysitter porn paused on the screen. Sam rolled his eyes and snapped it shut.

"Damn it, Dean. Watch your porn on your own computer," Sam complained to the empty room. "And pick up after yourself," He added as he scooped up the impressive pile of candy wrappers on the small table beside him.

He gave up, and switched on the TV, planning to watch the news. Instead, the logo for Casa Erotica flashed across the screen. Sam groaned and tried to turn it off, but the TV stayed on no matter how many times he hit the power button on the remote. In desperation, he got up and pulled the plug. He could still hear fake moaning and badly timed slapping behind him. All of a sudden, it was like someone turned on the lights in his brain. The candy wrappers, the porn, Sam's new 'girlfriend', and the fact that a shitty roach motel even _had_ a honeymoon suite...

"Gabriel! God damn it!" Sam swore and glared in disgust at the probably underage girl getting pounded on the TV.

"You called, darling?" Gabriel appeared beside him and nibbled on his earlobe.

"Ugh. Can you _not_?" Sam complained. "You know, when normal people in a long-term relationship want to get laid, they just _ask_."

"Well, I'm not 'normal people'. Am I, Sammich?" Gabriel purred, kissing the side of Sam's neck, just below his ear. "I'm epic. I'm a frigging Archangel."

"You're a nuisance, is what you are," Sam replied. "Well, when you're done having an obnoxious superiority complex episode, why don't you help me with the research for the case I'm working?" He asked as he pulled out his phone and tapped the messaging icon to send Dean a friendly warning to steer clear of his room.

"I went to all this effort... Fine. I'll just watch a movie," Gabriel whined as he picked something on pay per view.

"You're not getting off that easily," Sam growled and pinned him to the couch.

The Paramount Pictures logo wasn't even off the screen before the movie was completely forgotten about, drowned out by filthy moaning and Gabriel's incorrigible dirty talk. Seriously, was he _really_ an angel? Either way, Sam doubted he would remember the movie in the morning. That was probably for the better. Knowing Gabe, it was some shitty Doctor Sexy offshoot.


End file.
